


Arrivals

by Ylevihs



Series: How Not to Fall [54]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Retribution Spoilers, canon typical angst, inaccurate depictions of brain damage, inaccurate depictions of psychic damage, regene oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ylevihs/pseuds/Ylevihs
Summary: And departures
Series: How Not to Fall [54]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1327892
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Arrivals

There was nothing but the thudding _–whump—whump—whump—_ of the helicopter’s rotary blades. 

No other external stimulation could weasel its way in through the heavy fog filling her brain. It had come on quickly—Richard’s presence in her head was adjusted to and accommodated for and then immediately pushed to the side. There were bigger things to worry about for her mechanics than who was at the helm. It gave him the opportunity to step back and evaluate as much as he cared to.   
The consoles felt less intimidating now that her mind was illuminated. Organic, alien shapes, still. But more manageable now that he could see what he was dealing with. The large specters of her memory banks loomed—both too far away and much to close for comfort. Spiraling in on one another at the top like threads of DNA twisting together and falling back in on themselves. Torrents of data and electrical energy spilling between them, so much more intense than when she’d been passed out. It made his own mind feel fuzzy to look at for too long. A strange combination of claustrophobic and agoraphobic. Too cramped inside the vast expanse. 

Sparking to itself, chugging along as best it could, the first console he’d touched was desperately trying to heal the damage that had been done to it. Thin gelatinous threads were already webbed the gaps. There were no external markings on the console to let him know what exactly it was for, but Richard had the sneaking suspicion it was either the vision or the language center. She could speak after all, even if the words were slightly slurred and the concepts disjointed. And the only issue with her sight thus far was the inversion. Too much data was being lost in the disconnect, left to ooze out onto the ground where he’d severed those cables. 

There should have been an echo to his footfalls, but the helicopter blades were overwhelming in here. 

The next console felt like it had to do with auditory processing—just like the language center had been, not damaged beyond repair, but certainly damaged beyond convenience. Her mind was making a valiant attempt to try and stem the sensory bleed out. If the whirring of the helicopter blades was anything to judge by, she had no way of censoring any of the sounds she was taking in. And because the blades were the loudest option, they were the only thing her mind would let in. 

If there was ever a chance for something like a restorative coma. Like years and years of rehabilitation. She might be able to nurse these two back to health. 

There was something about the thought of her struggling for months, simply to relearn how to block out some of the sound around her and say ‘yes, I’d like some water’, that made Richard’s chest go warm. 

He perused the damaged space and felt a slight tug in his heart that he hadn’t done more. He could still do more. All the time in the world. All the space in the world. If he didn’t have to use the body he could. God, he could. He. Hm. Where would those sections even be? Later. He could leave that siren’s song to be listened to later. Maybe just reduced function of something. The kidneys perhaps. 

The space he’d done the most damage to was just to his side, bereft of sparks and lacking any energy input. A dead hulking thing. The cables and cords that had fed into it were lifeless on the floor, coils of cognition left to decay away. Nothing along its outside gave any indication of what it might have controlled when it had worked. The only way to find out would be to go through her systems and find what was missing, a task he had no real interest in doing. It had felt important. It had been shut down, though, when she’d been unconscious. So, something that didn’t affect the body’s ability to survive; just something it needed to thrive. Perfect. 

Richard turned back to what he thought was visual processing unit and slid his fingers inside. 

He surfaced slowly, taking on one sensation at a time. Dull throbbing from her nose. Mouth left to run on autopilot because monitoring it was simply taking up too much energy. Eyes crimped shut behind the sunglasses the helicopter pilot had offered Regina when she’d been helped up into the machine. There were heavy headphones clamped around her head, doing absolutely nothing. He’d left that part alone and so anything remotely audible was deafening to the point it no longer registered as sound. It was more in the way the sound made her lungs shudder in her chest. Teeth rattle in her head. Heart feel like it was missing a beat to the rhythm set by the spinning blades. The city had sent the helicopter to take them to the airport, a fact that didn’t surprise Richard in the least. It didn’t sit easily though, kicking out whenever he had to take his attention away. 

The first distraction from it. The regene had been guided in to sit down next to her on the bench seat. Strapped in by nervous hands. Already healing. Richard had seen her being brought on in the very beginning before he’d retreated to try and flip Regina’s vision upright. Handcuffed. Not in the little wrist locks ones. They looked like mesh metallic mittens, welded together. Just to make sure she didn’t get too excited and try anything on the flight over to the airport. 

Her leg was bouncing, heel tapping out a nervous pattern on the helicopter floor. She stopped as soon as she realized Regina had noticed it. A terrible display of personality that would have to be.  
Richard managed to catch that thought and strangle it in the bright space of Regina’s mind. It would not have to be rectified, he corrected with a certain amount of warped relish. It would have to be fostered if there was ever a chance for it to grow. 

He knew they hadn’t drugged her. Richard wasn’t sure if that was a mercy; she’d be uncomfortable, but she would be coherent. Well. Coherent enough to listen to Regina babble and soak in the anxiety of what was to come when they landed at the farm. 

He hadn’t gotten the sense that she would be a runner but more than a little of him hoped he was wrong. Maybe once they’d landed, she’d see the faint glimmer and not be too afraid of it. Even starlight after years in the cavernous darkness was awful to behold. Maybe she would be able to swallow it down. The back of the throat caustic burns of realization that she might be able to get away. The terrible and terrifying temptation of _freedom_. The freedom to die on her own terms. The freedom to suffer. To be known for what she was and be ground down into the earth for it. The raw and bleeding freedom of despair and choice and responsibility. Right there and for the taking if only. If only the rewards outweighed the risks. 

They do. He wanted to say. Completely unbidden from his own mind and as strong as a hurricane gale. They do. It _was_ better to die in the open than live in that cage. 

The world dipped outside, the helicopter banking to the side in a slow turn. With a tight flinch of anxiety Richard chanced opening Regina’s eyes. Vision returned in slow splotches. Dark bubbles bursting open to show that. 

Well. 

He could see. So at least he hadn’t made it worse. 

Everything felt like it was slipping vaguely to one side, as though the world was at a forty degree angle and it was merely that gravity had decided not to pull everything onto the ground. And then it would violently right itself. Not a full spin, but enough to make him dizzy. It was better than being inverted, but only barely. The spinning at least was a space he’d been in before after too much binge drinking. Her legs would stagger, surely, and her fine motor skills would be abominable. Hopefully none of her passcodes involved signing anything. 

But it was something he could deal with. 

It was only after looking to the side to see the regene sitting next to him that he realized he’d lost color. A perfectly acceptable trade.

Something was. A drip of water? No, couldn’t be that. A. What? What was that?

Tap. Tapping on either side her temple. Beyond the rotary noise of the. Richard blinked her eyes hard and shook her head to see if anything would dislodge. Beside her on the bench, the regene shifted her weight slightly. Wanting nothing to do with. The tap repeated and.

Oh. Oh, it was words. The pilot said they’d be landing soon. None of the words actually made it into Regina’s mind for processing; if not for Richard’s mind pulling double duty, the sounds would have slipped away like rainwater down the drain. 

Alright, time to talk again. 

With the voice and inflection came the posture. The attitude. Regina stood like a woman beyond reproach. Held herself high and straight. Untouchable. 

Ha. 

Richard straightened her spine as much as the helicopter restraints would allow. “When we land, we’ll be,” a hard pause blunt forced its way into his speech, every syllable turning back in itself and biting down furiously. “Headed directly for the plane, yes? I’m on a very tight schedule,” 

“Yes, ma’am,” the sound came from thirty thousand miles under the sea. 

Next to him, the regene flinched slightly. Caught up in her own thoughts, most likely. Completely unhelpfully, what was left in perfect working condition in Regina’s mind offered up the regene’s serial number. There was no name forthcoming, but it was better than nothing. Barely. 

There was a pair of suited men waiting at the helicopter landing pad at the Los Diablos airport. There was a chance they belonged to Senator Carmichael or her husband. Unlikely that they were Farm detail. But then again. They grabbed the regene by the shoulders as she was unstrapped from the seat, showing neither disgust or hesitation at grabbing her and moving her like a piece of broken or malfunctioning equipment. The were Farmhands then. 

Damn it. 

One of them offered his hand to help steady Regina. Had they not been briefed on her injuries? Perhaps they’d taken whatever report Chen had submitted at face value. It was a dangerous thing to hope for. Richard pushed her arm outwards and rested her hand in his as he tried to focus on her legs. Muscle group by muscle group. Knee up, ankle up, toe level, knee down, ankle down, toe. Weight bearing. Heel. Whoever the man was, was staring at her as Richard tried to maneuver her legs. 

“I take it the plane is ready for take,” come on, come on, don’t lose the word. It wriggled between her teeth. “Off?” Out of the corner of her eyes, Richard saw the regene being led ahead of them, towards the hangar.

“Yes, right this way ma’am,” an offered forearm. Normally Richard doubted that Regina would have accepted the gesture, but right now he’d let her pride take the hit in exchange for the assistance. If the man even noticed Regina’s weight on his arm, he didn’t show it. There was a flutter in the forearm Regina was gripping onto. “Um,” followed by the man reaching in a pocket and producing a tissue. “You appear to have a nosebleed, ma’am,” 

Richard cursed. Not internally. “Shit,” taking the tissue with his free hand and holding it under Regina’s nose meant that he had to stop making her legs work. The man obediently paused as Richard wiped at the fresh blood from her nose. Don’t offer a. Well. Would Regina say thank you to another person? She wouldn’t have to a regene but. “Thank you,” he chanced, sniffing. No reaction beyond a slight nod. Good. 

On board the small plane, the regene had been buckled into the front row of seats and the second man was kneeling to remove the hand restraints. They’d only been put on for show by the Rangers. Clearly no one on board thought that she was going to be a threat. Or an escape risk. 

Regina was guided into the row beside her and the man offered his hand again to take the bloodied tissue. After a brief internal shrug, Richard handed it over. It wasn’t as though it was his DNA coating it. And anything they could plan to do with Regina’s would hopefully be nullified by the time he was done. The trip itself would barely be two hours, start to finish. Something marrow deep hoped that maybe he could rest. Not sleep, certainly, but the aches of Regina’s body were plentiful and starting to weigh heavy. 

Somewhere Daniel was. Well. He wasn’t sure. Daniel would be nearby certainly. Preparing to follow the path of the plane and at some point, hitch himself to it. 

If everything went perfectly then. Then he would. Richard’s mind rebelled and refused to consider any part of Daniel’s involvement in this. Wanting it to be a bad fever dream conjured by Regina’s broken mind. But it was happening, no matter how much he hated the reality of it. Herald, damned sunshiny hero that he was, was going to be along for this. 

The two men left with a polite nod to Regina and then, without any sign of something out of the ordinary, the plane taxied onto the runway, and took off. And away. And Richard felt his stomach drop hard into his knees. There was no turning back now. No rip chord to pull or emergency escape hatch to thrust himself out of. The regene on the plane would stop him from forcing the cabin door open and even if she failed to, Daniel would be too close not to be able to snatch up Regina’s body and keep it from plummeting to the earth below. 

Too late to second guess. Too late to doubt. There were only the commitments that he’d made, spreading themselves out in front of him like a poisoned ten course meal. Little bite by little toxic bite, killing him slowly, until he reached the end of the table. 

Across from him, the regene was picking at her hands, clearly believing that the activity was hidden by the angle of the seats. Richard felt himself twitch Regina’s fingers in sympathy, fighting the urge to twist them together. 

He had to say something didn’t he? A hideous and unwanted thing that howled and wailed just at the entrance of his conscience. Say something. Anything. Give her whatever push was needed. No one had been there for him when he’d had those feelings of doubt and dread. Those first few terrifying thoughts that he could have the things he’d privately coveted. A sunset. A scar of his own. 

The idea of a _friend_ had been too far away to even recognize the outline of when he’d still been at the Farm. 

But he wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s lifeline. He’d tried that and failed. Anything he might have said ran the risk of falling on deaf ears. Of being dismissed as more rambling. To. To being nothing more than. 

Ah beans.

“When the plane lands,” scratchy and foaming up her throat. Whatever was left of Regina’s mind was blind and broken and still the remnants of it tried to eke out. “There will be the,” catching behind the teeth, twisting on the tongue. It helped to close her eyes. “That space between the hangar and the main ad…administrative building,” breathless feeling suddenly before Richard remembered he had to breathe through her mouth. “There’s a blind spot behind that far wall,” gasping a little for air at the end. Letting his eyes open back up felt more dangerous than opening a reactor, but the regene was simply staring at him. Her hands had gone motionless—her face had gone pale and. A slight flicker of something in her eyes. 

Doubt. And then fear. And then. She stayed silent, staring him down through Regina’s eyes. 

“I know there are dogs,” and fences. And guards with guns. And nothing beyond that but the open and uncaring wilds. And then a little bit beyond that, the real perimeter fence. And more men and woman with guns. And then an empty highway that if crawled along at night, through the low scrubland, would eventually lead to a small town, although that was generous. It was a gas station and convenience store. A motel and one or two doublewides. A greasy spoon for the truckers who had the misfortune of needing to drive down route 375. Enough to steal food from the trash cans out back and sleep for a day or two in the shade to recover and see if you were being followed openly. 

It had been enough for a heavily broken. For him to survive on after his second escape. 

Enough to let him believe that Regina may have believed that he’d died in the wilderness.

She shouldn’t need it. This regene shouldn’t need it because if he succeeded. If he and Daniel were able to do what they were coming here to do. She wouldn’t need it. But that didn’t mean. Hope was a hell of a drug. One that he hoped was seeping into her veins as well. Terrible and toxic and desperate to be passed around. 

The stare down continued, even as Richard fought Regina’s eyes to stay focused and stop slipping off of the regene’s face. And then, in complete silence, the regene turned her face away and stared out of the window. Whatever conversation he’d thought was possible was shut down with the simple movement. 

And without any way of knowing how what he’d just said had been received, Richard sank back into the chair with Regina’s body and wondered if the regene would kill him as he tried to rest. If he wasn’t mistaken, there had been recognition there that while it was Regina’s body, it wasn’t her on the plane. Again, hopefully. Perhaps the regene would believe it to be a last minute test of her. To see if she would behave herself and. And what? Head off to her death without a fight like a good little program? 

Impossible to know. 

Richard closed Regina’s eyes and set to work seeing if he could stomach sifting through her memories to figure out the layouts and maps and passwords that he would need. He almost expected them to be sealed away in one of the terrible and looming memory banks, only to find that most of what he was looking for was stored at surface level. Her passwords changed too frequently to be hidden in the depths of long term. The short term shallows were more than happy to wash up recent codes and conversations, ready to be supplemented by what he remembered of the facilities. 

By the time he’d finished dredging up everything he thought might be useful at a moment’s notice while navigating and likely having to haughtily insist that he didn’t need to go to the nursing station, thank you very much, the plane was beginning its descent. The regene turned her head slightly to look at Regina while the pressure in the plane increased against her eardrums. 

That same doubt and fear and mistrust and suspicion and. There it was. Recognizable if only for how strangely it sat on her face. Uneasy and new.

“They’ve let you go on missions before,” knowing it was true. Even if she’d been with a handler, monitored at every step and with every blink, she was a cuckoo. They wouldn’t have made her look like that and not let her out to see what she could do. This wouldn’t have been the first time she’d seen how people treated other, actual people. Her eyes narrowed, but it wasn’t an aggressive look. The confusion sinking and melding with something else that maybe Regina wasn’t still rambling. And then, sensing the opening, hoping. Again, hope. “It is much harder than you think it is to do it. But it’s worth it,” 

The plane landed. It was time.


End file.
